


Livin' Ain't Easy

by Staleina



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4, Sticky Bunton
Genre: Other, POV First Person, Survival, article
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 13:53:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5969485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Staleina/pseuds/Staleina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short article sent to the "Commonwealth Contributor", a newspaper in the Fallout universe after they'd asked readers to send them their stories about life out there in the Commonwealth. </p><p>This tale is about someone making do with what life has handed to them as they look for a place to settle down, at least for a little while. </p><p>"When life hands you lemons...you've just got to throw them right back, reeeeaally hard."</p><p>From a Prompt to write from a random NPC or OC perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Livin' Ain't Easy

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short story I wrote for Sticky Bunton (a game review site) under another pen name of mine (Zatheera), for their Commonwealth Contributor Issue #1. 
> 
> Here is the [ link ](http://stickybunton.com/2016/02/02/commonwealth-contributor-issue-1/) to the Sticky Bunton version, though it may be easier to read here.

This isn’t an easy life; it never has been. I can’t even remember a time that I wasn’t barely scraping by, at least not since I escaped the slavers and had to survive on my own. “Escaped” isn’t exactly the right word for it, but it definitely sounds better than the slightly traumatizing truth. 

It’s not uncommon for people of the Commonwealth to sell their children, or even kidnap other people’s kids to turn over for quick caps. My parents - like many others - had sold their youngest child so they could get another hit of jet - or whatever their drug of choice was at the time - and enough food to survive for another month or so. I don’t really blame them; I was just another mouth to feed, and I’m pretty sure they only had me so they could sell me in the first place. I was only five back then. I don’t miss them; heck, I can’t even remember what they looked like.

The slavers didn’t sell me off like you’d have expected them to. They kept me around for years as their gopher, a cook, as bait for people that couldn’t resist helping a lost child, a punching bag, and for some...a plaything. Whenever they were done with me for the night they would lock me up in a closet or a crate to keep me from slipping away-not that I ever got far the few times that I tried. When I look back on it, it was actually a pretty good thing that they kept me from running off, it wasn’t like a 5 year old could have survived for long on their own. I was hardly bigger than a radroach, and would most likely have ended up as a snack for a Deathclaw. Besides, being stuck with them for a few years gave me time to learn a few things when it came to life on the road, and they kept me fed. When they remembered to feed me that is...

One night after they’d thrown me in a closet so they could party and enjoy the booze they’d robbed from a settler, a pack of feral ghouls found them. I was only ten when I learned the sounds a man could make when he was being eaten alive. I hid behind the door, both hands clasped over my mouth, desperately trying not to make any noise and terrified that I’d be next.

I could claim that my path to learning how to survive was harder than anyone else’s, but that wouldn’t be honest. It’s just the way things are out here for those of us that don’t live behind Diamond City’s walls where people are only paranoid about being kidnapped by synths. Personally, I prefer sticking to worrying about things I’ve actually seen than synthetic boogey men.

Out in the real world, if you aren’t busy trying to hide from raiders, mutants, ghouls, gunners, and the local wildlife, you’re trying to find some sort of semi recognizable scraps to eat. If you’re fortunate to have a farm, the soil is hard to work and barely passable as fertile. For the times that you’re lucky enough to have food in your stomach and a roof over your head, the radiation storms come rumbling in, and then you’re scrambling to find your Rad-X and RadAway before you start sprouting a third arm. As useful as a third arm can be, I’m pretty sure I’m doing just fine with less than three.

I’ve heard there’s a settlement starting out up north west called Sanctuary. There is someone up there that folks keep calling the Sole Survivor that is in charge of the whole thing. Some are even saying that the Minutemen are building themselves up again with that Survivors help, though they refer to the Survivor as the General. They say that the Sole Survivor crawled out of some Vault near there. I wonder what happened to the rest of the people in that vault. I’ve only seen the entrances to a couple of them and they always gave me the heebie jeebies. Nothing good usually ever comes from places where people are locked up for a long time. People get stir crazy and things can go wrong right quick, but so far this Survivor seems to be doing alright. I just can’t help but wonder what they’re getting out of all of this. Seems they’re doing a lot of work for just one person.

It might sound a bit foolish, but the name of that place sounds promising to me. I bet they have water purifiers there too. It would be nice to be able to drink water that didn’t taste like it was laced with battery acid for once. I think I’m going to try to make my way there. It’ll take some time and I’m going to have to be really careful while wandering the wilds to get there, but if I can make it, I think I might be able to make a life of it. I could be useful; I’m good at scouting, hunting, cooking, and fixing things. It’s part of why the slavers kept me around so long, after all. I just hope they don’t shoot me before I get a chance to prove it.

This may not be an easy life, but it looks like it might be about to get a little bit better.


End file.
